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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615990">The Voyages of UFS Enterprise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecloudsareliketrees/pseuds/thecloudsareliketrees'>thecloudsareliketrees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ecology, Exploration, F/F, F/M, Geography, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, M/M, Multi, The Odyssey References</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:21:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecloudsareliketrees/pseuds/thecloudsareliketrees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Kirk and his crew embark from their home, the United Federation of Cities, to explore the uncharted waters of the outer archipelago and open ocean that covers most of their planet. Initially the dangers are pirates, hurricanes, and disease, but tensions rise on long journeys, and James must choose between the ones he loves and his duty to his ship. Will he be able to see his crew safely home when the odds conspire against him?<br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/>Inspired by the Return of the Obra Dinn, the Temeraire novels, and Pirates of the Caribbean, and also Spirk in period clothing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk/Spock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Embarking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Captain’s log, Solten 16, 3345</p><p>The final preparations are being made as the Enterprise is outfitted for what will be her fourth mission into uncharted parts of the Sea. Our mission: to locate and end pirate activity among the inner islands, and explore the outer archipelago to the best of our abilities. So sail beyond the large ring of coral reefs… to sail where no contact had been made. To learn what we can about new animal and plant life, to greet and learn from isolated cultures and far flung peoples, to understand the geography of our planet as we know it…</p><p>As I write this, my hand picked crew is reviewing the cargo and verifying its vast array of scientific equipment, long lasting emergency rations and supplies, and plenty of containment vessels for new species discovered along the way. All of them, I would trust to my life’s end. I shall do my best to describe them now:</p><p>1st mate S. T. Spock, an expert in biochemical reactions as in living beings as well as the geochemical reactions that occurred underground to power them, will be overseeing the glassware packing. He, and head of research Lt. Carol Marcus, and their flock of assistants are no doubt double packing the tubes, pipettes, and bulbs with spare rags, straw, and feathers in an effort to prevent the inevitable. By the nature of his experience, Mr. Spock is an exceptional candidate for the trip, with over a decade of experience at sea. However, his pointed ears bely that his home once was the vast Vulcan desert, in the center of the Land. Perhaps there is something in the arching blue sky over the water that reminds him of the hazy orange skies stretching over the sands?</p><p>2rd mate and chief helmsman, Hikaru Sulu, had a certain ferocity that caught my eye when we were midshipman together on the UFS Valiant, and has a gift for knowing how fast the wind will push the ship, and how the water will react to the turn of the rudder. There were many a storm where I had turned to see Sulu, eyes wild, at his post, wrestling with the wheel in the midst of chaos. He and 3th mate Pavol Chekov, a veritable prodigy on the complex movements of the dual lunar bodies above them in the sky, would be pouring over navigational charts and arguing about their inconsistencies, errors, and what might lie in their blank borders. Chekov had been fast tracked through the naval academy and caught my eye after I attended a lecture on his theory of disproportional tidal pull between Lun and Mon, which matched a few private theories based on my observations of tides. </p><p>4nd mate Montgomery Scott, is the best shipman of all of us. He often would not refrain from scrambling aloft to see a problem with the ropes for himself up close, and loved to doze in the crow’s nest, often to the dismay of top'en shirking duties. He has been abuzz about a new weave of rope that his ropemaker had learned while on shore leave, and is probably overseeing its integration into the rigging.</p><p>Other than my immediate lieutenants, a member of the Federation Academy of Cultural Outreach, was eager to put her language skills to the test. Nyota Uhura was not unaccustomed to traveling by sea, but her talents primarily lay in what would be done once they crossed the water. As well as interpreting for the crew when meeting vessels who could not speak Terran, she is eager to understand the culture of island civilizations, and offer the alliance of the Federation to them. Many first contact missions would have gone awry if not for her quick thinking and no nonsense communications. </p><p>The ship’s surgeon, Dr. Leonard McCoy, a friend who I have cajoled time and time again to sail with us, has brought an apprentice with him on this voyage, Ms. Christine Chapel. I hope that their services will not be needed too often, but sailing at sea comes with all sorts of splinters, parasites, and poisons, and to avoid them as he suggests, usually impossible. I am grateful Dr. McCoy will not have to patch up our scrapes alone. </p><p>Sitting across from me, and working diligently on rows and columns of numbers, purser Janice Rand is looking a bit cross at the costs of the extra research personnel, their expensive glassware, and the additional food that they would eat. She is excellent at trimming fat, and has been able to garner agreements between ship members within hours that would have taken me days. She is almost always wearing her hair in elaborate braids coiled on her head, even in the most harrowing of conditions. </p><p>In addition to these brilliant minds, our crew consists of two dozen research science ensigns, a gunnar and gunnar crew for the 12 cannons and 10 swivel guns aboard, the cook and his chickens, goats, and single cow, and 200 odd deckhands and topmen to operate the sails, fasten the ropes, and occasionally swab the deck. I have secured the positions of carpenter, coxswain, and cooper, on recommendations from bo’sun Keensar, an old friend of Scotty's, and I am about to review the physical progress of the storing before a final dinner on solid ground. </p><p>Then, into the unknown. </p><p>**// \\ **</p><p>“James, you know it pains me to let you leave again. Don’t let my mood ruin this meal for you, you need to eat. This may be the last time-” </p><p>“Mother! It would be easier for me to enjoy this meal if you did not imply that this voyage will be my last!” Kirk slumped back in his chair after the outburst, suddenly tired. Tired of arguing the same arguments, tired of questions of proposals and maidens, and craving the tang of the ocean air around him. </p><p>Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I have said this before, but I will repeat myself. The Enterprise is my love, the sea is my wife. I cannot in good mind force someone into a bond that will leave them alone for most of their lives. I have seen-” He stopped short, looking into his aging mother’s sad eyes. </p><p>He had seen what his father’s long absences had done to her, and to himself. But he could not admit that to her, at the same time as admitting that he too shared his father’s desire for being at sea. Looking away from her, to hide from the tears that sprang into them and the guilt that rose in his heart. </p><p>He felt her fingers touch his hand tenderly. “I love you James. You are so like him, but you are your own.” He looked back at her, taking in the crows feet and crinkled laugh lines. She had survived a lifetime of hardships and loneliness, and he felt that she was worried about his future being the same. </p><p>“I only wish for your happiness, and if you must first travel to the other side of the world, then so be it.” They finished eating in companionable silence, but he couldn’t help feeling that the subject would be addressed again when he returned.</p><p>After a slice of cherry tart, Kirk excused himself to gain some fresh air. He left through the kitchen door, hurrying up the hill from his mother’s home towards the open space of the palazza. He hadn’t realized how claustrophobic he had been feeling in the warm rooms until he reached the gap between two corner shops that opened to- he stopped his frantic pace to gaze at the stars. </p><p>If there was one thing he missed more than the stretch of the sea during the day, it was the stars overhead at night. They helped guide them, and glittered in clouds and clusters and constellations over the dark waves. Here in the port of Fentrua the finer displays of stars were obscured by smokes and torches, but out on the sea they went on forever. </p><p>Breathing in, and stepping out into the open, he began to walk and observed that the square was relatively crowded for the cool night. Possibly swelled by ranks of sailors about to set sail with him tomorrow, but also with young people courting and older people socializing.</p><p>It wasn’t that his mother was smothering him. For a woman who saw her sons so infrequently, she was cheerful and vigorous. She simply had been… insistent about a few of the girls who had come out for their debut in his absence. Never mind that they were all hardly out from their wetnurse’s skirts. </p><p>He thought he spotted one of the girls his mother had been adamant about, the daughter of a log baron, who imported the very wood that was used in the shipyards and on his ship. He turned quickly to avoid notice, but saw her attention drawn by his gold trimming and yellow Captain’s jacket. </p><p>“Oh Captain Kirk! It has been too-” </p><p>He practically sprinted away from her, hand gripping hat, silently cursing his lack of foresight, his gaudy regulation dress, his inability to confront what scared him, and desperately looked for a shop that still had a light, any shop- </p><p>There. A small lamp flickered, a dingy sign beneath. Someone moved inside, curtains drawn… but door unlocked! </p><p>Kirk slipped in, shutting the door quickly and catching his breath, before feeling a light touch on his calf. Looking down, there was a tabby cat rubbing up against his breeches, purred a bit with arched back. Kirk bent a bit and scratched her neck, before looking up and seeing a world of curtains, and a hazy fog of incense coming out of the back room. Movement startled him, and cats of all colors and sizes began to peek out at him from around the curtains and chairs and tables. He hoped he had not wandered into some sort of establishment of ill repute, but surely having a store front facing a popular gathering spot-? </p><p>“You are here for a reading.” An old voice spoke to him from the dark doorway, stating more than asking. A small, hunched Kzinti looked at him, large ears covered by a dark wrap, furred face eerily similar to the cats around them.</p><p>“I-” he began, wondering if this was fate acting on him. Kirk had never been particularly suspicious, unlike some who sailed, and preferred the reason offered by observation, to something unfounded. But fortune telling… After random chance had led him there?</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>She led him through the door, into a room illuminated by a single candle on a small table. It was quite warm, as braziers and incense smoked and burned his throat, and he shifted uncomfortably in his woolen coat onto the small stool.</p><p>She had taken her seat and begun shuffling cards rapidly in front of him. “I know you. You are the Captain. Large ship. Silver lady.” She fanned out the cards. Kirk tried to retain his surprise at her knowledge of his nickname for the Enterprise. But perhaps she knew a crew member? </p><p>Thoroughly unsettled, he obliged when she asked him to pull nine cards, dimly wondering if the charge was per card but far too invested to stop now. She placed the nine cards into a two parted pattern. “These five, what may happen. Those four, what you may do,”</p><p>He absorbed the cards’ images. Reversed 4 of shells. Ace of flames. The Mermaid, overlaid with the Wolf, followed by the Mother. The 10 of shells, 3 of leaves, reversed Land, and reversed 5 of breezes. It was a riot of color, cards depicting different figures with different objects, in what he was certain were each laden with significance of placement or orientation. </p><p>The Kzinti woman frowned over the cards for several minutes, making Kirk nervous. When she spoke, she did not reassure him. “This is… very interesting. You will suffer greatly, yes. You will be betrayed. But, you will be saved. Love will save you. And… you may be forced to choose between two things you care about dearly. But the decision will lead to your ultimate happiness. What do you think?” </p><p>Although he had a million questions, none of them arose to his conscious mind. He had left the fortuneteller’s shop after he paid twice the sum she asked (“For your four legged friends,” he insisted) and walked slowly through the much quieter palazzo. </p><p>Suffering, betrayal, these were to be expected in the more inhospitable regions of the archipelago, but being saved by love? It sounded like pandering, and yet, his mother had said something strange at dinner, something about traveling to the other side of the world to find love? And choosing between two things he cared about? Impossible, he would do both. But if rejecting one led to his ultimate happiness, then perhaps...</p><p>He hadn’t realized that his feet had led him back to his doorstep until he tripped on the curb and looked up to see his own window sills above him. He was about to go inside when he spotted a tall figure walking away from him, and recognized it as his 1st mate. </p><p>“Mr. Spock!” He called, running up before grabbing the man’s shoulder. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>“Ah, Captain,” Spock looked down at a stack of notes he had presumably carried over from his apartments in the naval academy. “I, uh-” He paused again. If Kirk didn’t know him better, he seemed preoccupied. </p><p>Concern filled him. “Is something wrong?”</p><p>“No, no Captain, I simply inquired to your presence a few moments ago at your mother’s abode. I thought I had missed you, as she informed me you were out, but it appears you are here now. I have been running calculations on the tension in-” </p><p>“Mr. Spock, you sought me out after supper to talk sums? At least buy me a drink first!” Kirk steered his lieutenant into a late night cafe, where they talked into the late hours over the new torque measurements that would be exerted by Scotty’s new rope system, enjoying finger foods, and in the Captain’s case, several glasses of Edosian wine.</p><p>When they finally departed (or rather when the owner finally pulled the chair from under the Captain’s unyielding form), Kirk had a difficult time completely forming his sentences, but Mr. Spock was certain he had absorbed the necessary information before the conversation devolved into “Mr. Spock, why must my mother insist the impossible?” or “The cat woman who spoke the future had hundreds of tiny children!!”</p><p>He assisted the Captain to the appropriate house, and when he saw the small housekeeper at the door, he lifted the listless body of his Captain over his shoulder, now snoring contentedly, and carried him upstairs to the room the servant indicated. </p><p>He breathed the familiar smell of his Captain's room, Vulcan senses tingling with earthy scent, before turning, silently nodding at the servant and leaving the house. He could not rid himself of the tension that the small touches, lingering looks, or heavy pauses of Kirk had caused him, nor of the meaningful smile Mrs. Kirk had given him when he had arrived on their doorstep at such hour, nor the familiar scent of the Captain's room.</p><p>At sea at least he could always count on fresh air. </p><p>** // \\ **</p><p>The Enterprise loomed in the bay, far out from the docks, vastly taller and at least an extra deck larger than any other ship in the port. Her dark bowed body had been rid of barnacles, and her figurehead, a pale figure holding a sphere, crafted from a lighter wood than the rest, earning her the nickname Silver Lady. Many of the townsfolk and docks people assembled to see them off, including Mrs. Kirk, who waved emphatically to the Captain as he settled into to the dingy that would transport them to the ship. He could not resist a wave back to her, feeling a bit better about their conversation and his future now that he was aboard the ship that would allow him to escape it.</p><p>He had awoken to a bit of a headache, but nothing could dull his joy at being turned loose to the open ocean. Not quite remembering how he got home after his late meal with Spock, but remembering feeling at ease, he had packed his few personal belongings and set off with his mother to the docks.</p><p>The salty air and bright sun had continued to lift his mood, and reminded him of his first voyage, years ago, when he had scrambled through the rigging, tying and retying knots at the watch leader’s orders. The way that the ocean stretched away from them onto the horizon, and their ship was the only odd point out in the vast ocean of blue. It had been in that crow’s nest that he decided to enter the naval academy and captain a ship of his own. </p><p>His boots slapped on the teakwood as he jumped over the railing and onto the deck, his small bag of personal items slung on his shoulder. The crew shouted at him <i>Ahoy Captain</i>’s and <i>Top o’ the morning</i>’s from the top of the rigging, and across the ship voices hailed him. He smiled and waved upwards, and had made his way to where a heated argument was developing between his third mate and the purser. </p><p>“I cannae spare any more, Rand, the extra fibers help with the durability of the rope. To lower the quality would spell disaster in the middle of a subtropical hurricane!”</p><p>“Mr. Scott, you are currently spending over half of your budget on this material- Captain! Please explain to Mr. Scott our inadequate funds for his friendship bracelet project.” Janice turned, seeking support as Scott shook his head vigorously. </p><p>“No, Captain, please explain to Ms. Rand tha’ the ropes we’re converting to are more expensive, but their quality more than makes up for their price in the long term!” Mr. Scott was turning as red as his uniform coat. </p><p>“I’ll see what I can do. Are we ready to launch?” </p><p>“About ready Captain, shouldnae be more than a half turn of the glass.” </p><p>“Excellent. Scotty, check with the watch lead and begin to clear the deck. Ms. Rand, if you’ll walk with me.” He led the still fuming purser away and they passed the smelly crates which housed their live animals for the journey. Hopefully they would be able to keep the cow for longer than a few weeks, unlike their previous voyage, when an improperly tied lash had led to a container sliding across the deck and crushing their source of fresh milk, along with ensuring that salted beef would be on the menu in the near future. It had been an unfortunate but costly mistake, and the offending deckhand had been sentenced to a night without rations and five lashes. While Kirk did not believe in such punishment, the naval academy encouraged it, to ensure the obedience of the crew on particularly long voyages through difficult territory. </p><p>The Captain turned towards Rand at the entrance of his quarters. “Janice, how much are we over?” He asked quietly, so that the bustling seamen around him wouldn’t hear. </p><p>“Approximately 5,000 geld sir, I’ve tried every cut and loophole I know of, but-”</p><p>“Take the money from my salary. I believe it would only be a few months, if I’ve calculated it correctly. </p><p>“Are you sure, Captain? The ropes are that important to you?” She looked at him disbelieving. </p><p>“Yes, absolutely. I will not stand for the cheapening of my vessel in the face of a little less spending money. Have the final payment logs been sent to the Naval offices?”</p><p>“No sir, trying to compensate for this lack of funds has consumed my whole morning.”</p><p>“Well, you’d better hurry, we are set to sail within the hour. Any discrepancy, take it from my pay, do you understand?”</p><p>She had hardly muttered “Yes sir” before running off to deliver her hastily revised charter to the dingy that was loading sailors onto the Enterprise. Her scarlet coat was hardly out of sight before Kirk was assaulted by the smell of tobacco and a friendly arm around the shoulders. </p><p>“So you’ve decided to show up on time,” its source said, and turning Kirk saw his old friend Dr. McCoy, medical supplies bag in hand, and his assistant who was wrestling with a large bundle of clean gauze. </p><p>“Bones, don’t you think that a few miles of that stuff will do?” Kirk looked at the heaping bandages, and the struggle of McCoy’s apprentice. </p><p>“Not with the way you like to operate- I spend a few weeks in a mainland hospital and its ‘kitten scratch this’ and ‘broken arm that’. I’m so excited to see what strange and horrifying things I can struggle to fix on this voyage!” The sarcasm dripped from the doctor’s voice. </p><p>Kirk had insisted that his friend be the one who patched up his crew on all of his expeditions as Captain, ever since the quick efforts and ingenuity of the young doctor had saved his leg in a battle during the Duststorm wars. “Maybe this trip you’ll save some gauze for the rest of the crew!” He slapped him on the back and guided Ms. Chapel towards and down the stairs she could not see, towards the surgeons quarters on the orlop deck. </p><p>Kirk turned and ascended to the quarterdeck, where Mr. Sulu and Mr. Spock were discussing the rock formations around the nearest of the archipelago’s islands, Restuala, while Mr. Chekov was engaged with a sextant and furiously scribbling notes. </p><p>“I am certain that the rocks in this area form an underwater cavern where tidal waters are stored and released at a different rate than the surrounding coastline. We would do best to circumvent them and approach from the southeast before turning up the coast.” Mr. Spock’s long finger pointed towards a narrow inlet that had proved to be a stalking ground for Orion pirates. </p><p>“I disagree, Mr. Spock, if we could time the flow correctly, then shooting through the gap would keep us out of pirate grasp to allow for an assault from the southwest. Captain,” he said, as they both straightened and acknowledged Kirk’s presence. “What is your opinion of the approach towards Blackbay? With the wind and weather looking so fine, we may reach Restuala by mid week.” He gestured upwards with the map, as a gust of wind blew up and smack it into Mr. Spock’s face. “Mr. Spock! So sorry about that,” Mr. Sulu grinned, pulling the map away from Spock’s body and rolling it up before safely tucking it in with the rest of the charts in the canister he was carrying. </p><p>“No harm done, Mr. Sulu” Spock replied, looking towards the Captain with a trace of consternation. </p><p>Kirk laughed and took them both by the shoulder. “We haven’t even set sail gentlemen! Are you that eager to tackle the problems that will plague us for months?” On an afterthought, he said “Although shooting the gap between the main island and the coast rock formations would give us the advantage of surprise..” </p><p>“Captain, it would be illogical to risk the whole vessel without complete knowledge of the timing of those tides.” Mr. Spock reminded him, stepping away from his grasp and looking out towards the horizon thoughtfully. Mon, the smaller of the two lunar bodies over the planet, was setting for the day, and was still partially visible even through the light of the morning. He turned back towards them as the bo’sun whistle rang out, and saw that the Captain was now discussing the results of Chekov’s calculations with the young Russian. </p><p>Mr. Spock’s eyes lingered on the Captain, who had taken a chance on him when so many others hadn’t. How many times had he been told he would drown, or be eaten, or simply lost at sea by both desert dwellers and seamen alike? Even at the academy, few Captains were comfortable allowing anyone from Vulcan onboard, even one that was only part Vulcan. Crude jokes and suspicious beliefs about his non-human abilities had initially tormented him, but in the desert emotions were not a luxury often afforded, and he extinguished the feelings of hurt with passion of knowledge. </p><p>Even now that the Captain had vouched for him over and back to anyone that would listen, he could sense that his somber attitude and Vulcan appearance still put newer crewmembers on edge, and some of the saltier seadogs cursed his presence every time a rope snapped, or a knot loosened. He remembered feeling the stares after the incident with the dairy cow. But Kirk had never been that way, eager instead to listen to the theories that Spock had compiled on tidal shifts, sandbar formations, and the seemingly erratic movements of the lunar bodies, much as he had last night. They had survived battles and thirst and disease on the Enterprise together, and through it all the Captain only seemed to gain affection for him.</p><p>He didn’t realize that he was staring until the sandy curls moved and smiling blue eyes replaced them. Blue eyes, the color of the sky this morning. Full of excitement and joy. The rest of the Captain’s face, looking at him expectantly, questioningly. His cheeks, last night flushed with wine, this morning flushed with vigor.</p><p>“Something out of line, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked casually after a moment, turning to face him. </p><p>“No, Captain,” Spock said, a bit surprised by his lapse of awareness and of the sudden prolonged eye contact, but hiding it as well as the rest of his emotions. “Everything looks to be in order.” He recovered, turning away from the eyes, and towards the crew, who were eagerly awaiting the order to weigh anchor</p><p>“Excellent. Let’s set sail.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Night Terrors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kirk slept easily the first night aboard, and for some nights after. The feeling of the gentle rocking and the murmur of activity allowed him the first restful sleep in what felt like ages, but was more accurately a month. </p><p>He grew used to the rhythm of the day at sea, embracing its regularity and structure. The first watch began at 6 hours from noon. The second, at noon. The third, 6 turns after noon, and the fourth at midnight. One of his lieutenants was always captaining the watch, and there were four shifts a day, 6 hours long, each randomly assigned every few weeks. </p><p>As Captain, he never had to watch a shift, but was expected to be available at any hour of the day for consultation or assistance. Meals served three times a day, fewer if supplies were to be rationed. </p><p>Much of the conversation he had onboard focused on details of the journey ahead, or tales of journeys past, or on the ship’s abilities and condition. He had almost forgotten about his strange last night on the mainland entirely, and was surprised when the memory came to him during his dinner with McCoy.</p><p>“So James, I’ve sawed your ear off about Johanna, but what about your shoreleave? You didn’t just spend all your time with your mother, did you?”</p><p>The truth was that he had spent every second away from his mother on the ship, overseeing repairs and replacements. But that seemed like it wouldn’t satisfy Bones, and he thought of the cat lady and cats, so he said “I actually got my fortune told.” He replied with a grin. </p><p>The smile across from his was replaced with disbelief. “Do you really believe in that hooey?? Palm reading and planets corresponding with personalities??” </p><p>“No, not quite. I was, ah, trying to avoid meeting someone I’d rather not in town and I ran into the shop randomly, without knowing what it was!” He looked expectantly at Bones. Bones looked doubtfully back at him. “Fate? Fortune? Doesn’t that ring any bells for you?”</p><p>“You’re just as crazy as the rest of these salt tossing, ghost seeing sailors!”</p><p>“Well, okay, you can disbelieve, but she drew oracle cards for me. She said I would be betrayed, and suffer, and that… love would save me! And that I’d have to make some difficult choices, I think.” He probably should’ve written that all down the moment he got home, but why didn’t he go home..?</p><p>“James, that is the same nonsense she tells everyone who walks in there. You’re a sucker,” He said smiling, “And she knows it, and you know it.”</p><p>James smirked. “Her pussies seemed to think so too.”</p><p>The shocked look on McCoy’s face was only there a second before it expelled a mouthful of whisky towards him. </p><p>And so what if he was a sucker? Was there something so wrong about believing that the universe had aligned in that one moment, to tell him to seek happiness, to make stronger choices? He was still thinking about the cards as he drifted to sleep. </p><p>4 of shells.</p><p>Ace of flames.</p><p>The Mermaid…</p><p>He was swimming, deep on the edge of drop off, through forests of kelp weeds. He saw four conch shells, oddly stark against the sandy drop off. The cold, dark water stretched off in front of him. He was compelled to jump in, and when he did he realized it was with a tail instead of feet…</p><p>The darkness swallowed him, and he was falling, faster than should be possible underwater, and then he was being dragged down, and he fought against the force, until he realized he was breaking through the water, and being hauled aboard. He saw the sun, as one sees a candle in the dark. He saw over him a wolf, and a skeleton, and the sailors of his crew lean over him, before losing consciousness, and falling again.</p><p>Dimly he thought of the cards, and sleepily berated himself for not remembering better, and then wondering why he had not returned home. Of course, Spock…</p><p>The dream shifted, to the small cafe where they had discussed the tension in the ropey muscles on the sailor’s back. Or, that couldn’t be it. But here he and his 1st mate were, shirtless on the sidewalk and comparing shoulder and bicep divots to ropes and knots. </p><p>“The way the trapezius muscle connects to the scapula is rather like the running bowline, do not you agree?” Spock said quite seriously, pointing out an area on Kirk’s body that he himself could not see. </p><p>“Hah, do knot,” He said, before gazing up the slender arm to an elegant shoulder, and then Spock’s dark eyes. They were quite close. Kirk reached out and quite naturally kissed him on the lips. And then they were all over each other. Writhing through twisted sheets, bodies pressed against one enough, the ship’s small bed hardly enough for their two adult forms. </p><p>And then it was just James who woke up, twisted around his sheets, sweating, and found that he was quite hard. Embarrassed, he lay back in bed and tried to estimate the time from his quarter’s windows, but only saw darkness. </p><p>Realizing that he was not going to get back to sleep anytime soon and needing to piss, he slowly dragged breeches over nightshirt and stumbled on the deck, heading for the railing. </p><p>He stood there longer after he had finished, hands on hips, gazing out at the sea and the glimmer of moonlight on the waves. He tried to empty his mind of his chaotic dreams, but was unable to rid himself of the strange feeling that had been falling in the abyss, nor the heat and pressure of the love in bed. He was about to try to sleep for a bit longer, when the presence of someone behind him caused him to turn. </p><p>Of course it was. Spock’s solemn face searched his own in the dim light, his tall figure haloed by the lanterns the night watches set onboard. For a moment Kirk was speechless, thinking of the way the arms and legs would feel tangled with his, and the softness of the lips, before recovering and saying “How goes fourth watch?” He turned to look out onto the sea, leaning over the railing and away from his confused feelings. </p><p>Spock also turned towards the water. “Some of the crew grumble that we are being too stringent on the liquor rations.”</p><p>“We are four days into a massive voyage! They can wait at least until we see some action,” Kirk responded, a bit annoyed. He, as much as any of his crew, enjoyed the nights when liquor rations were doubled and the deck was cleared for dancing, but it was typically after long stretches of difficult sailing; a release to keep them from going completely mad when food and water stores were low, or when the winds died in their sails and they drifted in hot, moist air for weeks. </p><p>“Perhaps they are restless Captain. The waters in this area are typically much more fraught with illegal activities.” His first mate turned to glance at him from the corner of his eye, observing the lost look in his Captain’s eyes, the way the moons’ lights glittered on his tousled hair. He had clearly not been sleeping restfully, for there were dark bags under his eyes and sleepiness about him. </p><p>He looked softer, and for a moment Spock wanted to take his Captain into his arms and guide him back to his bed, to restful sleep, as he had done the last night on shore. But here, there was no housekeeper to question if he happened to linger. </p><p>He quickly looked away from the Captain, hoping that the vague flush in his face would be disguised by the pale moonlight, but was startled to see a ship looming on the horizon. As he watched it turn with the waves, he observed tattered sails and smoking timbers, and the waving of a torn white cloth. </p><p>“Captain,” Spock said, pointing towards the ship that was now clearly rudderless and adrift on the sea, and the figures on board that had spotted their own ship and were now waving all manner of objects. </p><p>James strained his eyes into the darkness, before spotting a glimmer on the horizon. His first mate’s Vulcan ancestry had evolved heightened nighttime vision for hunting in the cool desert nights, and he had quite often been able to spot ships approaching at night before the top’en in the crows nest had any clue. Spock handed him his own viewing glass, saying “Third quadrant, twelve ticks northwest,” to indicate a precise location on the horizon.</p><p>Lifting the glass to his eye, he quickly spotted the now burning vessel, and the figures on deck, most of whom appeared to be civilians and children. They would need to reach them soon or they would be dragged into the ocean with the hot planks and tangling ropes. He returned the spyglass to Spock. </p><p>“We have to help them,” He said, turning towards where one of Sulu’s junior helmsmen was manning the wheel. </p><p>“Mr. Jefferies, take us around to the north west, twelve ticks. Ms. Godeshk,” addressing the young Tellarite by the signal lamp, “We are on a citrine alert!” She snapped up from where she was lounging and slid a piece of the yellow-orange mineral in front of the candle, bathing the deck in an amber glow. </p><p>Kirk heard Spock rousing the shift crew to battlestations, and headed below deck to waken his off duty lieutenants. As they grabbed vests and guns as needed, the gunner crew was also roused from hammocks and card games alike and the ship sprung alive with activity. </p><p>Ascending to the main deck, obtaining his own spyglass and guns, he joined Mr. Spock where he stood with Lt. Uhura. She had awoken from the shouts and came from her quarters wrapped in a heavy knit scarf, hair tied up for the night. Kirk saw now that they were swift approaching the burning vessel. </p><p>“Captain, I worry that this is a trap,” His first mate began. “The lack of lifeboats, or crewmen is telling.” </p><p>“I agree Mr. Spock, but I see genuine horror on those people’s faces. We have to try to save them, even if it is a trap. Besides,” he said, cutting off his mate’s incoming objection, “If we are to search for pirates, then what better place would there be than a pirate trap?” Both the lieutenants looked at him dryly. </p><p>“He’s got a point,” Uhura finally said, smirking at Spock. Spock said nothing, and saying only “I shall alert the full crew of the possible attack. Shall we move to ruby alert?”</p><p>“No, not yet. If this is a trap, I don’t want them to know that we know. Pretend that we think it is only a rescue mission, draw them in, then attack full force!” He turned to Uhura as Spock left them to see to it. “Lieutenant, if you would, I believe we will need your abilities soon.” She nodded, promptly going to fetch her own weapons and proper clothes. He sought out his four mates and they devised a strategy. </p><p>Hook the starboard side of the Enterprise to the burning ship, launched a boarding party, assist the civilians (if they were such) to cross over, and keep them in a tight pack on board. Ready cannons on the port side to fend off a quick approaching slough who would use the distraction to their advantage. Cut the ties to the burning vessel and speed off with their new passengers, or fight with the oncoming pirates. </p><p>They were now within shouting distance, and Kirk could make out the letters on the bow: The Cuttlefish. A small cephalopod who scavenged and nipped at the feet of those swimming in the warm waters of the archipelago. He raised his hands to his mouth, cupping it to project his voice, “How many are you?”</p><p>Distantly “Thirty” was shouted across the gap, and Kirk cursed. If this was a pirate trick, then thirty would be difficult to subdue. He saw that there were terrified passengers and young ones, and he knew that if he did not act, even if only one of those people was an unarmed civilian, he would regret his choice for the rest of his life. </p><p>“Take us closer, Mr. Preston!” He shouted to the man at the helm. He spun the wheel, turning the Enterprise so that it was now broadside with the Cuttlefish. </p><p>“Permission to board?” The Captain shouted across the water, a mere formality as deckhands were readying grappling hooks to toss once they were in range. </p><p>“Aye!” Came the response over the water, and Kirk could now see a pale woman in the front of the group, with dark hair that glinted, and oddly shaped ears. He noticed Mr. Spock tense beside him, and turned. </p><p>“A fellow Vulcan? You don’t know her, do you?” The lack of control on a normally composed face confirmed his question, and he was concerned that his first mate was feeling, perhaps for the first time, immense fear or anxiety. He heard the order given to throw the hooks, and the ships were now being drawn together. “Steady now,” he called to the boarding party, some of whom looked eager to jump the narrowing gap. </p><p>“Thank you for permission to board, Captain,” A smooth voice called from above him, and the Vulcan woman was now jumping from the burning rigging to their own, and down in front of the Captain, drawing on him so quickly that he did not see from where she pulled her revolver. Her poncho like Vulcan half-robe obscured most of her torso, making it impossible to distinguish any other weapons. Her black eyes, he thought, betrayed a touch of gloating. </p><p>He turned to his lieutenants, but only Spock had drawn quickly enough, and their crew was now being threatened by the approach of many of whom he had thought were mere civilians and innocent. Some of the woman’s crew were children he realized, but other short figures were fierce looking Xo’an and Eldorian. </p><p>Too late, he realized that the fires they had seen in the distance were coals and braziers on dampened wood bits, and the sails were being repaired as they spoke. A new tactic, disguising a ship as though it was at a masquerade. </p><p>He spoke directly to the woman. “It seems you’ve got us where you want us,” he began, turning on the charisma that had saved him from many such pirates in the past. The cold look on her face resembled disgust, and he realized that perhaps the honeypot wouldn’t work this time. </p><p>He was surprised when she turned away from him and towards his first mate, speaking rapidly in Vulcan to him, before raising her gun-free hand in the split fingered ta’al of the desert peoples. It surprised him even more when Spock returned the gesture, and spoke with her in low tones that were pleasant to Kirk’s ear. The conversation had started civil, but the shocked look on Uhura’s face over Spock’s shoulder indicated that something was amiss. </p><p>The Captain nodded her over, and she approached before a few of the pirates barred her path. “She is our ship’s translator, I would prefer to be privy to any conversation that you might have with my men, especially given the circumstances.” </p><p>Spock spoke then. “Captain, allow me to introduce… T’Pring. She and I…” He looked at her, as if asking for the words, an action that clearly filled her with contempt, but was expressed in a slight shifting of weight away from Spock. Spock looked down towards the planks, then to his Captain. “She and I were betrothed as children, as is the way in the desert, many years ago.” He said softly. “But it has been long. It appears that neither of us have followed the way of the desert.” </p><p>T’Pring, pirate captain of the Cuttlefish, and apparent wife of Spock, leveled a cool gaze at him, before turning her attention to the Captain. “This changes my plans, Captain. Initially we were to board your ship and slaughter you and your officers, take your supplies, and sink the Enterprise to the bottom of the reef. But…” She glanced at Spock, who was looking away from them towards his boots. “We will allow you to live. And you will allow us to live.” </p><p>Kirk looked at her, incredulous. “Now wait a moment, just because you have resigned to not murdering us, does not mean that I will let you loose to slaughter fellow sailors! Attacking a Federation ship and her crew is punishable by death. By my orders I am to execute you and arrest your crew.”</p><p>“Captain, that will not be possible.” Spock’s voice, thick with what could only be emotion. “T’Pring is bonded to me… If you sever the connection, especially when she is so close, the loss may rebound my mental state to one that is unfit for duty.” He looked at Kirk. “Which I am willing to sacrifice, for the good of the Federation.” He said, steely looking at T’Pring, who returned his glare. </p><p>Kirk could not allow that. He looked over the small vessel and its ragged crew. Then at the cold Vulcan woman, whose mind was entangled in his lieutenant’s. “Listen to me. You will take your crew, and your ship, and leave Federation waters immediately. If I catch you out here again, I will not hesitate to eliminate you, no matter the consequences.” He stepped away from her. </p><p>“Retrieve the hooks, we are casting off,” He told the crew surrounding him, before turning and seeing Spock and T’Pring still staring at each other intently, their thoughts and feelings limited to one another alone. The chaos of the retreating pirates and bustling sailors surrounded them like they were the eye of a hurricane, and Kirk was overcome with hatred for the strangely beautiful Vulcan woman. </p><p><i>How dare she brazenly attack my ship, bewitch my first mate, and betray the goodwill that I had intended, then order me around? </i> He angrily returned to his quarters, eager to get out of sight of the crew. He attempted to log the account, but broke three feather nibs before deciding to sleep the few hours until dawn instead.</p><p>He missed T’Pring’s departure, and her ship’s disappearance into the darkness, and the subsequent long watch that Mr. Spock kept, frowning towards the horizon, to ensure that she was gone for good. </p><p>** // \\ **</p><p>Kirk waited until he knew that Spock had eaten and slept before interrogating him about his hidden wife. He found the opportunity when they shared lunch together the next day. He peppered him with questions about the woman, and Spock obliged. He finally asked, “What did you mean, you were bonded to her?”, his curiosity encouraged by the open way that Mr. Spock was entertaining his questions. </p><p>He had been running it over in his mind since the previous night’s encounter. Surely even Vulcan children were too young to engage in the consummate reproductive acts that Kirk knew to be native to all carbon-based races on the Land. And he had met Spock when they were both barely old enough to shave, so that would make his marriage quite early. Not to mention, Kirk’s lewd dreams had continued even after he fell back into bed, but this time he was forced to watch his first mate wrestle with the beautiful Vulcan woman, while he was restrained. </p><p>Spock’s cheeks dusted green, and for a moment Kirk thought he would not answer, before hearing, “It is a spiritual and telepathic bond that partners many enjoy for their entire lifetime. In its best examples, it ensures a complete knowledge of where your partner is, how they are feeling, and if they are healthy. At worst…” He trailed off, looking at his gloved hands. Kirk followed his gaze. </p><p>Impulsively, he grabbed his officer’s hands and squeezed. “I understand. I can see why you left home; there was not any space for you to live your own life.” They looked at each other, pausing a moment, before Spock withdrew his fingers and placed them under the table on his thighs out of Kirk's reach, smoothing out the cream breeches with a hit of nerves. </p><p>“Luckily with practice, it is easy to block out the other’s presence, and with distance the connection fades back into the dim connection I share with all my people. I did not recognize the touch of her mind until she was on us.” </p><p>Kirk nodded. They had discussed the Vulcan ability for telepathy before, as Kirk believed that it may be useful to relay information from ships that were sailing in formations, or to deliver complex concepts to peoples whose languages were too alien for Uhura to translate in the short term. But it seemed there was an inherent empathy to the touch telepathy and partner bonding, and he could tell that unless more Vulcans left their hot desert and sailed the wild seas, it would be only a tool for use on his own ship, and at the pleasure of his officer’s will. </p><p>He began again “So there’s no divorce in the Vulcan way? No way for someone to become unbonded, and then rebonded?” He hoped that the question was casual, but clattered his cup on his saucer as he set it down.</p><p>Even if his feelings towards the Vulcan had surpassed those of Captain and first mate, he couldn’t make an overt move. As Spock’s commanding officer, any such proposal would certainly be colored by the implications of the power Kirk held over him. Kirk wanted Spock to come to him, but he didn’t know how to draw out someone who refused to allow emotion to reveal his thoughts. </p><p>“There is a way,” Spock said softly, and looked at the Captain’s hands, which were always ungloved, brazen, open palmed and ruddy on the table. He greatly desired to place his own back where he had snatched them from, but told himself to get a hold of his sudden desires and instead he looked into his Captain's eyes. They were darker than the sky now, inside the Captain’s quarters and surrounded by the dark wood of his table, map containers, and ship beams, and Spock thought that they looked more like the deep section of blue that occurred at the dropoff on the edge of the archipelago. </p><p>They gazed at each other, not knowing the time, until a sharp rap on the door requested the Captain’s presence to review the rigging for current weather conditions, and Spock was left to his half finished soup and roll. </p><p>The way T’Pring had barred his thoughts so quickly was undoubtedly impressive, if also unsettling and painful. She had seen his feelings, and knew his connection to the Captain, and she had allowed her mirth at his predicament to flood across the bond, before the pity had rolled in as well.</p><p>Spock sighed before exiting the room. Moments like the one that had just occurred haunted his waking thoughts, as he compared their quiet interactions to those of someone the Captain attempted to seduce, and could find little in common. There were so many times that Spock desperately wanted to rip his gloves off and grab Kirk’s hands and feel what he was really feeling, instead of second guessing based on looks and words and brushes, but such a thing would be a massive invasion of privacy.</p><p>How do you pin down someone who is constantly offering themselves up?</p><p>He hurried to his own quarters, eager to mediate and empty his mind of the cacophony of thoughts that were intent on worming their way out from his control. A flicker of delight came to him from far away, as he felt T’Pring engage in battle with a more unfortunate ship, and he first pushed her out, then his thoughts, and then his self. </p><p>Blissful blankness. A sea of peace. Order….</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi all, thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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